Silver

just before festive occasions

the gods make do

without their silver lamps

and paraphernalia.

in the ritual cleansing

prayers, oxidised from longing

are absolved of guilt.

some prayers take longer—

harsher detergent

and a lot more shining.

but there is just one

resolute patch of  darkness

that has stayed,

beneath the tip

of the lotus stem of the lamp.

that must be the time

i first asked for you.

* * *

Telepathy

he follows me

like a nagging doubt—

appears suddenly

on the back of autorickshaws,

screams  a couplet

in answer to cynicism,

rings the doorbell

like a long lost friend,

passes messages

through Ma’s daily admonishments,

and at the one off temple visits,

lands a full bloom

on my palm.

i still prefer

logic. it makes better sense

until one day

he stops coming to me.

hide and seek.

* * *

Shobhana Kumar’s recent work has appeared in Right Hand Pointing, The Missing Slate and Open Road Review. Her poem, “Numantia” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her work includes two collections of poetry.